Oblivion's Shadow

VIII. Breathing Room

They stopped to make camp for the night outside of Dragon Bridge; he'd go into Solitude tomorrow for any news about dremora sightings. The mountain south of Winterhold was their next destination; long past Dunmer had built a gigantic statue to Azura at its top. Brynjolf wondered what they would have to do to earn her favor and if she would respond to them, like Meridia did.

He glanced at Macayla sitting near him. Meridia didn't seem to have a problem with them, but with Nocturnal. The way they cut down at each other told him the Daedra didn't like anyone but themselves. Nocturnal had suggested Meridia and Azura were calmer than the others... it made him wonder what the others were like.

Even though Meridia's trial had been vexing, they had won her favor. He looked over at Dawnbreaker in its scabbard; being covered, it didn't glow to attract predators, but Brynjolf could still feel the power constantly pulsing through the blade. It seemed eager to be wielded against evil. The sword was powerful and he could only imagine the damage it would do to the dremora, since Meridia despised any type of undead. One Daedric Lord was on their side; his eyes lifted to Karliah—now it was her turn.

Finished eating their meager dinner, Karliah went to go patrol the forest around their campsite, leaving Macayla and Brynjolf alone. She was curled into his side, her head on his chest, and he had his arm around her with his eyes upward, watching the glowing lights. Seeing them always reminded him of the first time he desperately wanted to kiss Macayla.

It was after they had robbed Yondis Trading Warehouse; she had impressed him so much picking those locks expertly and knowing how to remain in the shadows. He had not only wanted to kiss her because of her skill, but because she had looked so pleased at her vengeance, and the blue and purple fluorescent lights had her radiant. Macayla had become his goddess of the night who held his thieving heart—she still did, even with Nocturnal coming into his life.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Macayla asked.

He looked down at her—he probably had tensed at the thought of the Daedric prince of darkness. "Just back after we robbed Edvar Clear-Blood, and I wanted to kiss you."

She lifted her head to look at him; her eyes shone with a mischievous glint. "You mean you didn't want to kiss me when you first found me?"

Brynjolf smiled with her playful jab. "Oh, aye, I did, but the bruises had healed and you looked so beautiful."

Macayla smiled. "I bet I looked better, too." She leaned up to kiss him.

He returned the kiss, but she didn't end it as a simple kiss. Macayla moved up to kiss him harder and hungrier; he responded the same, grasping her hair to hold her to him. She straddled him and provocatively moved against him. Brynjolf groaned into her mouth. He shouldn't be thinking with only one head, but it had been a while since he had her.

The passionate moment grew near spiking where he nearly pushed her back, tore off her clothes, and entered her, when Macayla suddenly ripped herself away from his lips. Her once hot body had grown stone-cold in his arms.

"Macayla, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice heavy with lust.

Her eyes met his, piercing and furious. "It wasn't Macayla."

She abruptly got off of his lap and walked off as what she meant hit him—Nocturnal had taken over her. It wasn't his wife he was kissing and nearly made love to, but the Daedric Lord.

***

She had found a spot distanced away from their encampment to think. The area sat mostly clear as it overlooked the quiet lake; she sat on a log originally meant for a campsite, but she couldn't see the serene picture.

Macayla was furious with the Daedric Lord. How dare she use her body to seduce her husband? All because she wanted to experience what it felt like to be loved by a man. Macayla had made it clear that it was her body, and she had only invited Nocturnal in to protect her family—in no way was she to interfere. She had grown lax with her trust and Nocturnal betrayed it. She honestly shouldn't have been surprised, though: Daedric Lords shouldn't be trusted. Period.

After a while of sitting there, Macayla calmed down and Brynjolf found her. He didn't say anything when he walked around the log and joined her on it. It remained quiet between them for a good long spell.

"Lass... I'm sorry," Brynjolf began. "I should've noticed something was different... I know you're not that bold, but I wasn't thinking right."

She looked over at him. "Brynjolf, you didn't do anything you need to apologize for. You just thought it was your wife."

"But it wasn't my wife! You would think a husband could recognize his wife, but I... I didn't."

"Why are you beating yourself up over this?" Understanding hit her: by her reaction, he thought she blamed him.

She reached over to grab his hand. "Brynjolf, I'm the one who should be sorry. I reacted poorly: I stormed off and let you believe I blame you. But I don't; it was her, not you. I was so livid at her, I didn't think about how you would see it."

He looked over at her, face worried and eyes suppliant. Macayla gave a small smile as she touched his cheek. "I know it's not your fault; I truly do."

Brynjolf let out a heavy breath of relief at her insistence. "Why? Why would she do this?"

"Because she's jealous of the love we have."

His eyebrows shot up. "Jealous? Of us?"

Macayla nodded—Nocturnal wasn't happy that she revealed this, but this was her revenge. "All Daedra are alone; they can never fall in love or feel what's involved. Nocturnal's lonely, and always will be alone."

Brynjolf remained quiet for a while, stunned into silence. "I've never thought of it like that."

"I know; me either. That still doesn't give her the right to do what she did. She's not happy with me for admonishing her, but I'm not happy with her either."

After a while, he looked at her. "Do you think she'll try again?"

Macayla shrugged. "It wouldn't surprise me if she did. But I'm going to keep a closer eye on her now; I don't think I'll slip up a second time."